Page 9 of The Angel and the Agent

“Do what?” he asked.

“Don’t pursue me like this. I know how it is with you.”

“How is it with me?” he asked.

“It’s what I said on the phone. You want what you can’t have. I like to flirt, and I’m attracted to you, but I’m not casual, and I don’t want a broken heart.”

He blinked at her, shocked by her honesty. “Fair enough, but I still like you, and we have fun. Friends?”

“Can you be friends with a woman?”

“I’m friends with your sister,” he pointed out.

“Can you be friends with a woman who’s not married to a man who could rip your arms off?” she amended.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he said. He held the basket aloft again. “Come on, I know you can smell these and you want them.”

Against her better judgment, she moved aside and let him in.

Chapter 4

Ethan had no idea what time it was when he stumbled into his apartment and fell into bed. Four days in Morocco and two in Egypt had messed up his internal clock so badly that he wasn’t sure if it was day or night, and he didn’t care. All he wanted was sleep. He closed his eyes, and was immediately sucked into blackness.

Eleven hours later, he woke, yawned, and reached for his watch. It was early morning on a Thursday, an hour before his usual wakeup time. He should hit the gym, go for a run, something, but his body protested. After so many time zones in such a short amount of time with so little sleep thrown in, he would take this morning to rest and recoup. He’d have plenty of time for a run tonight, and possibly a workout, too.

Stumbling to the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and then stripped and stepped into his shower, relishing the feel of hot water on his dirt-crusted skin. He wasn’t sure if he had showered since he left DC. His brain was so fuzzy he honestly couldn’t remember. His assignment, tailing an Egyptian ambassador, had turned from a cakewalk into a five-alarm fire when the man met with a known and wanted arms dealer. Instead of simple surveillance, Ethan had ended up in the middle of aninternational gunfight before ghosting back out of the country the way he’d arrived: unseen.

The last thing he wanted to do was go to work and have meetings and write reports about his time overseas. The bureaucrats would grill him, as they always did. Why couldn’t they understand things didn’t always go as well in real life as they did on paper? The lack of bureaucracy was one thing he missed about the SEALs. Back then he’d done the job and passed the buck to someone higher up to explain it. Now he was expected to speak for himself, and it was more stressful than he’d imagined it would be.

He stepped out of the shower, dried off, sniffed the towel, and tossed it in the laundry. The smell of coffee permeated his apartment, and he inhaled deeply, feeling more awake already. On autopilot now, he opened his drawer, reached for a pair of boxers, and stopped short. There were clothes in his drawer, but they weren’t his boxers. Reaching in farther, he withdrew a handful of lacy women’s underwear. Confused, he circled the room in slow motion, searching for an explanation. When none emerged, he walked to his closet and pulled it open. Where his clothes normally were instead hung tidy rows of little girls dress up clothes—tutus, fairy wings, and Cinderella dresses. A quick glance at the floor showed his shoes all gone, replaced by tiny sized dress-up heels in varying colors.

He stalked back to his other drawers and yanked them open. One was filled with bags of cotton candy, another with a tidy stack of bridal magazines. He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. Was he still asleep or, worse, hallucinating?

His phone buzzed with a text and he reached for it, startled by the unexpected sound. It was from Amelia, and a sinking feeling of dread began to grow in his stomach as he read.

I movedsome things into your place to make way for Ethan Jr. Hope you don’t mind! XO, Baby Mama.

Where are my pants??He texted in reply.

In answer,she sent a picture of his clothes with a ransom note.Bring two chocolate cupcakes to McPherson square at six PM or you’ll never see your pants again.

And if I don’t?he typed.

In answer,she sent him a gif of a blowtorch.

“She’s out of her mind,”Ethan said, setting the phone aside. What was he going to do? He had arrived home ahead of his suitcase and, even if he had it, all of his clothes were dirty. The only clothes in the house, besides the lace panties and dress up clothes, were the grimy items he’d worn home and slept in last night. He would have to put those on, go to the store, and buy new clothes to wear to work today. Downing his coffee so quickly he burned his tongue, he threw on his clothes from the night before—clothes that should rightfully be burned after all they’d endured, and jogged a few blocks down the street to a department store, buying a new outfit and a three pack of boxers in record time.

He arrived at work sweaty, rushed, and out of breath, not his usual casual and in-control demeanor for sure. He took a few breaths and pasted on a smile, but inside he was seething. She had gone too far, way, way, way too far. Breaking into his apartment, stealing all of his clothes and shoes,all of them, and then replacing them with little girl’s dress up clothes and fairywings. He snickered a laugh, earning a few looks from the people he was sharing the elevator with. Pressing his lips together, he tried to reel it in, but it was too late. The more he thought about it, the funnier it became until, by the time he reached his floor, he was doubled over and laughing out loud. Not since he first joined the SEALs had someone hazed him so badly, and he loved it.

One thing about Amelia, she was never boring. For a guy who had a low threshold for sameness, she was a breath of fresh air. And she wasn’t trying because she liked him, because she wanted to be with him or impress him. She was doing it because it was who she was, because it was part of her makeup to be fun and ornery.

He pulled out his phone, snapped a pic of himself, and sent it to her with the caption,You owe me a hundred bucks for a new outfit.

She replied immediately.A hundred bucks for pants, shirt, tie, and underwear? You do your shopping at Hobo Jim’s Discount Clothing Club?

Who saysI’m wearing underwear?

She sent him a gagging emoji.Your tie’s too short, BTW. The wide part should hit at your belt.

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